Luke shielded his eyes from the dull glare of the sun seeping through the thick rain clouds. When he spotted his friends making their way toward him, he waved, raising the umbrella so they’d see it.
“Morning, Luke!” Pablo called. “Missed you at breakfast.”
“Yeah, I needed to speak to someone first. What brings you all out into the cold drizzle?” Luke merged with his friends as they huddled under his umbrella.
“We checked the monitor. Looks like Heinrich is awake. He’s sure making a racket,” Sam said.
Luke chuckled. “I just drank half a pot of coffee without any breakfast. I’m vibrating a little and need to use the restroom. I’m going to let him stew for a bit longer while I get a bite to eat.”
“He’s got to be getting uncomfortable strapped to that chair,” Pablo observed, holding the door for Luke.
“I think I can bear his discomfort with magnanimity.” Luke headed to the restroom at the end of the entrance hall.
When he finished, he met his friends in the solarium and grabbed a pastry off the table. He ate quietly while his friends talked. He didn’t perk up until Sam mentioned a message from Delilah.
“What’s she got for us?” Luke asked.
“She says she and Simone will be here soon. Wants us to wait until she’s here before we interrogate Heinrich.” Sam set her phone screen down on the table.
“We can hold out. I’m in no hurry.” Luke grabbed a second pastry.
“Feeling a bit spiteful?” Pablo asked.
Luke didn’t bother looking up. “If I was feeling spiteful, I’d let him rot for a year, then make him fight for my amusement.”
The cold tone of Luke’s voice sucked the air from the table. He didn’t soften his words or back pedal them; instead, he filled his coffee cup and bit into the pastry. As he focused on his breakfast, conversation returned to the table as they waited for Delilah, who joined them about thirty minutes later with Simone.
“Where’s the rest of your crew?” Sam asked.
Delilah yawned, reaching for the coffee. “They went up to their rooms for showers and a quick nap.”
Pieter pushed the tray of pastries toward the two Black women. “How’d it go in Mons?”
“Pretty good,” Delilah said around a mouth of Danish. “We took out about a half-dozen vampires, mostly ones out solo hunting. Once we saw a bigger group, we took off. Hit a few in Charleroi, then bugged out. I think all told, we took out about fifteen vamps.”
“Not a bad night.” Luke looked up from his coffee. “Have we heard from the other team yet?”
Sam nodded. “Jung-sook said they’re going to hole up in Valenciennes for the day, then hit Roubaix and Cambrai.”
“They find anything?” Pablo asked, refilling his coffee.
“Yeah. A few in Tournai, then ten in Lille. She said they were seeing large groups out prowling for them, so they called it and got off the streets.”
“Good. The goal isn’t to kill them all, just create chaos.” Over twenty-five vampires in one night, that warmed Luke’s heart. “That should shake them up a bit. Where are you heading tonight, Dee?”
“I think we wanted to hit a couple towns in northern France.” She turned to Simone. “What were those towns?”
“Charleville-Mézières and Sedan,” Simone replied.
“Sedan’s pretty small,” Luke mused, “but Charleville-Mézières is big enough—there might be a few vamps prowling around.”
Delilah nodded, swallowing a bite of croissant. “Yeah, but I want to see if the vamps are even in the small towns. If Jung-sook found some in Tournai, we might find some in Sedan. Besides, if we restrict ourselves to just the bigger towns and cities, they’ll be able to concentrate their forces or move them out. If we can prove nowhere is safe, we can be more effective long term, even if we occasionally whiff and hit a town with no bloodsuckers in it.”
When the phone in his pocket vibrated to life, Luke startled. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled the phone out and checked the caller ID. “I have to take this. It’s my caretaker Émile.”
“Hello?” Luke said in French.
“I have good news, sir,” the caretaker replied.
“Excellent! Heinen will be there?” Luke leaned forward in his chair.
“Yes, and a Mrs. Heinen as well. The auction house said he was very excited after seeing some of the lot photos. They said the turnout should be excellent.”
“Well done. How goes the other project?” Luke asked.
Émile cleared his throat and gave a light cough. “It progresses. I’m supposed to hear by the end of the week, so hopefully I’ll have more for you then.”
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you soon.” Luke hung up.
“Judging by the content smile you have there, he had some good news for you?” Pablo raised an eyebrow.
“Yup. Heinen will be there. He’s taken the bait.” Luke reached for another pastry.
“That is good news,” Sam said.
“Nice, but not to be repetitive—about my plan?” Delilah asked.
Luke nodded, thinking about it. He’d put Delilah in charge of their chaos campaign, and she’d thought it through thoroughly. “We’ll stick with your plan. Let us know when you’re ready, and we’ll go have a little talk with our guest.”
“I’m good for now. Simone?” Delilah smiled at her girlfriend.
“I think I’ll run upstairs and take a shower. I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” She stood up, kissed Delilah, and ran her hand along Delilah’s back as she walked out of the room.
Luke stood, picking up a backpack next to his chair along with his rudis. “Shall we?”
Pieter, Sam, Pablo, and Delilah followed him out of the solarium, across the yard, and into the door that led into the cliff side to some of Luke's storage areas. After a series of doors and stairs that led down into the earth, they stopped at the bottom level and a row of prison cells carved into the rock.
“Remember, don’t touch the door or the walls. It’ll hurt you wolves pretty badly,” Luke warned, nodding down the hall for everyone to proceed.
When they arrived at the last one, Luke dropped the backpack, pulled out a key, and opened the first lock, revealing other mechanisms. A minute later, they stepped into the cell.
“Ach, he stinks,” Delilah complained, covering her nose.
“Looks like he whizzed his looms,” Pablo said.
“You keep a person tied to a chair all night and that might happen.” Sam folded her arms across her chest and smirked.
Heinrich shifted in the chair. “Am I to be insulted by dimwitted American idiots?” he asked in German.
Since Luke and Heinrich had never spoken or met, the German wouldn’t recognize him. They’d agreed that Luke would handle the official interrogation in German because he spoke it fluently, and Heinrich might recognize Pieter’s voice.
Luke cleared his throat. “How are you enjoying your stay?”
“Have you blinded me?”
“And you call Americans dimwitted?” Luke scoffed. “You’re blindfolded.”
“Is it to be torture, then?”
Luke thought he almost sounded eager, like he was too tough for torture to extract whatever secrets they might want. “No. I’ve rarely found the results to be accurate or worth it. You can answer my questions or not. Frankly, you’re the least important part of this equation, anyway.”
“I’m the alpha of a rich pack,” Heinrich sneered. “You’ve brought down the wrath of my pack and all our allies.”
“No,” Luke said quietly. “You’re my prisoner. Your pack means nothing to me, nor will they be able to find you. They could be in the next room, and they’d never know you were here, not even through your pack link. And don’t think of escaping. You won’t be able to touch the walls or the door. I mean you can try, but it’ll hurt not an insignificant amount. For all intents and purposes, I’ve removed you from existence.”
Heinrich’s back stiffened some. “Are they electrified?”
“Nothing so simple or mundane.” Luke paced around the room.
“My beta and my pack will find me.” Sounding petulant, his confidence deflated from the towering ego he’d started with. “My allies are powerful.”
“Not as powerful as mine.” Luke walked around his prisoner, wanting to make him feel even more uncomfortable. “I took you right out from under the nose of your pack, your mistress, and your beta and left them drooling and unconscious on the floor. Not so much as a single police officer showed up to see what was up. So you may as well get comfortable.”
Heinrich slouched, his body collapsing in on itself. His head hung down, his hair falling in a veil over his head. With the long top and the shaved sides, the haircut looked like the style popular with some of the alt-right set, especially if it were slicked back. He was well muscled and would be as tall as Luke or Delilah, maybe even an inch or two taller than six feet if he was standing at attention.
“Who pulls your strings, Heinrich?” Luke asked, his voice curt and clipped.
“No one. I’m an alpha. I pull the strings,” he replied.
“Is that why the last time I was in Köln, the city was awash in vampires?”
Heinrich flinched a little. “What do I care what the bloodsuckers do as long as they leave my pack alone?”
Luke smiled. He’d scored at least a minor hit. “Vampires just running free, violating your territory without you checking them? What kind of packleader lets his territory be violated? But I guess you’re not really that powerful…” Luke stopped in front of Heinrich and squatted so his voice would come in at face level. “If how easily we took you is any indication…”
Heinrich stiffened, his breathing intensifying.
“I bet you’re not even the top wolf in the area. I bet you have to go begging to Heinen for money…and probably permission to do anything.” Luke stood and turned, taking a step away before tilting his head back toward Heinrich. “I’m sure he’s got a list of replacements for your position already.”
“That little shit? My pack is ten times his size,” Heinrich spat out.
Luke laughed. “But his bank account is far larger than yours.”
When Luke turned to face his friends, Pieter gestured toward Heinrich and opened his eyes wide. Luke raised his hand and nodded to acknowledge his friend.
“And I bet you have to go crawling to Jan to pass through Belgium and ship out of Antwerp and Rotterdam.” Luke laughed again. “Very amusing. The big German with the Prussian name has to go begging to Belgium and Luxembourg. The irony is practically”—Luke made the chef kiss motion—“Mwah! Delicious.”
Luke turned around to look at Heinrich. The man practically seethed with rage. “Don’t bother trying to transform into a wolf. As long as I keep you here, you won’t be able to change.”
Heinrich flexed, either trying to break his bonds with his werewolf strength, or force the change. He released, gasping, and tried again. This time, when he gave up, he slumped in on himself as he breathed hard. “How?”
“I told you. My allies are more powerful than yours.” Luke walked over to him, lining up with Heinrich’s right ear. “Now…” he paused. “Tell me about Zalmoxis.”
Heinrich, cringing away from Luke, was halted by his bonds as he visibly tried to shrink in size.
“Bingo,” Luke thought. He’d hit a sore spot with Heinrich. And not just a sore spot, but the mention of Zalmoxis scared him. The big man’s response had been visceral and immediate.
“So you have heard of him,” Luke said. “Is that who you all report to? Is he your master? Is that who that little shit Flavius Constantius reports to? Le Mousquetaire?”
Each name hit Heinrich, causing him to twitch as he tried to regain his lost composure. Luke continued listing out the names he knew, but despite Heinrich’s inability to maintain a poker face, he kept his lips shut. Luke tried to keep his growing frustration out of his voice, playing it cool and unflappable with the werewolf strapped to the chair.
“Well, it looks like we’ve gotten as much use out of him as we can today.” Luke opened the backpack. Pulling out one of the tranq guns, he popped Heinrich in the thigh.
They waited in silence until the packleader of Cologne slumped forward, muscles completely relaxed, his breathing steady and even. Pulling the keys from his pocket, Luke unlocked the cuffs around Heinrich’s ankles and wrists but left him sitting in the chair.
“Pablo, Pieter, can you two bring him out into the hallway, please?” Luke asked, heading through the door.
He unlocked the cell across the way and pulled out a set of sweat pants and a sweatshirt, setting them by a cot. Bending over the cot, he pulled the blanket down.
“Bring him in,” Luke called. Pointing to the cot, he added, “Lay him down here.”
Pablo and Pieter, one holding his arms by the wrists the other by the ankles, dropped the naked man into the cot. Luke pulled the blanket over him and lead the way out of the cell, locking it after his friends exited. He wasn’t quite in the mood to talk yet. They’d squeaked a bit of information out of Heinrich, but not enough. They’d try again later.
Once they reached the outside, a break in the clouds letting a little afternoon sun through, Luke released a heavy breath, pushing out the tension of the interrogation. After he stepped into the entrance hall of the cottage, he kicked off his shoes and slid his feet into his house slippers, then walked into the bar to grab a beer.
“I’d join you for one, but Simone is waiting for me and I’m going to get some sleep before rolling out tonight,” Delilah said, leaning in for a hug.
“Sleep well, I’ll see you off tonight.” Luke smiled at his friend, watching as she walked out.
When everyone else placed their orders, Luke poured their beers then joined them at a table. He lifted his glass. “Well, team, here’s to our first objective successfully completed—and to many more.”
They all clinked glasses and drank deeply.
“We didn’t get too much out of him. He’s not great at keeping his cool, but he shut up fast once you hit the big name,” Pablo said, slouching into his chair with his arm hanging over the chair’s back.
“I didn’t hold out a lot of hope, but we definitely got a lot out of him for our first session. Zalmoxis was a big hit. Heinrich knows the name, and judging by his reactions, he’s met him and felt his overwhelming presence.” Luke took a sip of his Pils.
Sam snorted. “Felt his presence? More like he’s terrified of him.”
“Remind me who Zalmoxis is?” Pieter asked. He’d missed a lot of their leadership discussions post-arena rescue.
“He was a god of the Dacians. They were the people who lived in what is Romania. Zalmoxis was one of their gods. As the story goes, he was a man and studied under Pythagoras—or was his slave. Supposedly, he died or disappeared for three years, then was resurrected.” Luke stopped, running to the end of his knowledge.
“That’s it?” Sam asked. “Didn’t you fight against the Dacians?”
“I did, but I didn’t get into the local religion, and there’s not a lot about him but vague theories. Not much of their culture survived the war. Many were killed or hauled away into slavery. And for the majority of my time in Dacia, I was fighting against them. Wasn’t really able to have a philosophical conversation with anyone.” Luke shrugged. “Anyway, that’s the name our mysterious entity gave me after he eviscerated my soul and before he blasted the arena apart.”
“You don’t sound convinced.” Sam raised an eyebrow, her head tipping to the side.
“I don’t think he has the firepower to be the master of the vampires. To my knowledge, he wasn’t involved with their creation or early history.”
“But the whole resurrection thing kind of lends itself to the old fangy and undead bit.” Pablo shrugged, lifting his glass to his lips.
Luke nodded, pursing his lips in thought. “It’s possible. Or it could be that he was turned into a vampire, and resurrection was how his coming back was explained. But if that’s the case, then he’s not the creator or even the first vampire. Besides, if the Pythagoras thing is true, the timeline is wrong. Vampires existed for a long time before that.”
“Did you get anything from your conversation with your…uh…contact this morning?” Sam asked, looking nervous.
None of his friends had gotten used to there being real deities, nor the fact that Luke associated with them, let alone their own brief meetings.
“You can just call her Selene, Sam.” Luke smiled warmly at her. “She may not be the gods you were raised with in Japan, but she’s intimately involved in the history of werewolves.”
“That may be true, but we’re not really used to being on a first name basis with a goddess,” Sam replied tartly.
“She is kind and gentle and has aided me more times than I can count. You can mention her name without accidentally worshiping her. You’d have to accept her into your heart and willingly keep her there. But to answer your question, she sounded as unsure as I do. The name she danced around, the one involved in the creation of the vampire, is a far scarier prospect, though I don’t know how his power stands when there are so few worshipers to his counterpart, Ahura Mazda.” After Selene’s reluctance to mention Ahriman’s name out loud, he’d fallen back on trusting her instincts.
“Who are you being vague about?” Pieter asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and probably a bit of annoyance at Luke’s apparent timidity.
Luke grabbed his phone and pulled up a browser, then typed in Ahriman, passing it to Pablo first since he sat to Luke’s right. “Don’t say the name. Just look at it. Read the information if you’d like.”
“Aren’t you being a bit superstitious?” Pieter asked, trying to keep the scoff out of his voice.
“Pieter, I’m an immortal vampire slayer who received his power directly from three deities. I regularly commune with a goddess. At least, I have recently, and at other times in my past. You’re a werewolf, as is everyone else at the table. You were in Wyoming in the mountains. You saw what happened.” Luke took a sip of his beer to wet his drying mouth. “You’re the only one at this table who was raised a Christian. I don’t know if you hold to any church now, but you have a certain set of inherent preconceived notions because of the baggage of your Catholic upbringing.”
“Isn’t Pablo Catholic?” Pieter asked, his eyes flicking over to the brown man from Mexico.
“Not even close, my friend. I learned enough about Catholicism as a child to keep from being branded a heretic or sent to a church school for reeducation. I was raised with the indigenous gods of my mother’s people.”
“Who was your dad?” Pieter asked.
“Some Spanish prick who came to rape and pillage. I never met him or even know if he survived his expedition.” Pablo shrugged.
Pablo never spoke about his past and knew far more about Luke’s history than Luke did about Pablo’s. It had never seemed important to Pablo to talk about it, other than some mentions of his time in California in the 1960s and 1970s, living the surf culture life. It seemed like the only personal history he acknowledged was the brief time before he turned up in Portland to join Holly’s LGBTQ+ werewolf pack. His life had blossomed in Portland as he built a real home with a life of purpose, serving the queer wolves who showed up in Portland looking for a safe haven.
“I’m sorry, Pablo.” Pieter seemed uncomfortable about the turn the conversation had taken.
Pablo shrugged again. “No worries. It’s ancient history.”
“Do you know the story of the vampires’ origins?” Sam asked, her eyes burning bright with curiosity, as she leaned closer to Luke.
Luke nodded. “The information was given to me when I became Mithras’s hunter.”
“Well…” Sam drew out the word. “Are you going to tell us?”
Luke laughed at his friend’s eagerness. Pablo and Pieter both leaned in closer. “Not now. One evening when the whole gang is here, we’ll build a cozy fire and drink high alcohol beers, and I’ll tell you the origin of our enemies.”
Sam clapped eagerly, a broad grin on her face. “Goodie! Ghost stories.”
As much as he didn’t like delving into the dark recesses of history to explore the origins of his lifelong enemies, it was probably time for everyone to learn the story. It was their lore, or at least lore they’d earned the right to hear as full-fledged vampire hunters themselves. And as much as they might not like to hear it when the story was revealed, part of their history as werewolves came from the same darkness. But they chose the light; vampires had no choice. When the time was right, he’d gather in his flock and weave them a tale.